


et al

by legete



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, F/M, M/M, Multi, Multiple Female Orgasms, Negotiations, POV Female Character, Pining, Porn Battle, Resolved Sexual Tension, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:06:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legete/pseuds/legete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can see Barnes in the corner of her eye, though she doesn’t think he can tell she’s looking at him. He wouldn’t be wearing that face if he could--it’s his whole heart right there, written out in his expression as he watches Steve hold her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	et al

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle XIV, fulfilling the prompt "Bucky/Peggy/Steve, together, negotiations." It's a little late to be officially considered, but here it is anyway.
> 
> Thanks to zekkass for once again being my beta and my cheerleader.
> 
> (how do porn, you guys)

Barnes corners her in a disused alcove in the bunker one night while Steve is in a development session with Stark. He presses her in with the width of his body, backing her up against the wall. He’s dressed in his Commandos blue, the SSR wing on his sleeve bright in the dimness. When she moves to get around him, he shifts to block her.

Peggy Carter has been a young, beautiful woman in the company of lonely men for years now; there is an unfortunate familiarity in this dance. She’d turned Barnes down implicitly before, has barely paid him any mind to him since but as the shadow that haunts Steve’s steps, that bosom brother that men tend to pick up somewhere on the battlefield. Now, though, with his body inches from her own and his face half in shadow, she is forced to consider him.

“I got somethin’ to say,” he starts, voice rough.

His knuckles are white against the chipped plaster of the wall, curling into a fist next to her face. She feels fear, yes, but also anger rising in her. She does not like this position she finds herself in. It would be easy enough to get away from him--a sharp knee to the groin, a well-timed blow to the head--and it’s obvious that he’s not used to thinking of women as capable of hurting him, based on how open and exposed he’s left his body. But the strain it would put on the entire Commandos dynamic should Steve learn of this is extreme. No, she doesn’t like it at all, and she resents him deeply for it, more than she would anyone else.

She puts violence on hold for the moment and pulls out her bag of women’s tricks, the ones her mother had tried to impress upon her all those years. Some of them have stuck, though she was always more interested in her father’s gun collection than in learning the increasingly coquettish ways of her childhood friends. She thinks _shame_ should work nicely here, and she lets disappointment twine around the steel in her voice. 

“Don’t you think Steve would disapprove of--”

She cuts off with a short gasp when he lurches farther into her space. This close, she can see the blue of his irises has been reduced to a thin ring, but it’s not arousal doing it. She’s seen this expression before, on boys realizing for the first time that there is a very real chance they will die that day.

“You can’t,” he says, staring at her as if he expects her to have any clue what he’s talking about.

“Can’t?” she echoes.

“No dame’s ever looked at him like you look at him, and he--” he chokes on whatever he was going to say and turns his head away. When he speaks again, it’s small and pathetic-sounding. “You can’t. I was here first.”

Her eyes widen as she understands.

He won’t look at her now, just pushes himself off the wall and straightens his coat, then turns on his heel and stalks off towards Stark’s labs.

So there’s that, then.

\--

“Captain,” she calls a few days later, striding up to where he’s sitting with Barnes in their usual spot at the Whip and Fiddle’s bar. He twists around and then stumbles hastily to his feet, all that grace she has seen in training and newsreels gone as if it never existed.

“Ma’am.” He looks so earnest and so thrilled to be speaking to her that it pangs inside her chest.

Behind him, Barnes does not stand. He’s watching her, though, carefully neutral.

“I’m afraid you’re needed rather urgently at HQ. New transmissions intercepted.” Steve sends a glance back at Barnes, who has finally slipped from his stool. “No, just you, I was told.”

She stands there primly as he pays his tab and leaves, then slips into his vacated seat. Barnes is still standing, watching the door, but he turns back to her as she orders a whiskey and water.

“I’ve got something to say,” she informs him, taking a long sip of her liquor, and she smiles at the way he stares at the red stain her lipstick has left on the glass.

\--

 _No,_ she tells him as he tries to slip his hand beneath fabric and between her legs.

 _No,_ she tells him as he tries to kiss his way down her abdomen.

 _No,_ she tells him as he tries to pin her body beneath his.

He gets to leave no marks; he is not allowed inside of her. She brings herself to climax with her fingers while he mouths at her breasts, then allows him to finish himself off to the sight of her lying naked on her bed.

It’s not bad, for a test run.

\--

She should’ve known she couldn’t keep that up; Steve is the most fair person she has ever known. When she finally leads him back to her leased rooms in Covent Garden, leads them both back like a piper in red, Steve will do nothing without Barnes’s approval. He must ask that damned man about every little thing. By the time the three of them are naked and in her bed, all of her carefully-planned rules have begun to seem useless.

“You watching?” Barnes asks, voice hoarse as he looks up at them. Steve appears to be even more rattled than she feels as Barnes shoulders one of her knees up and presses his tongue flat to her, his sharp intake of air mirroring hers. He’s sitting against the wall and holding her to his chest, hands wrapped around her elbow, her ribcage. Between the solid heat of him at her back and Barnes’s attentions, her breathing is already growing shallow and erratic. She can feel self-satisfied humming, however, and that simply will not do. She twists a hand in Barnes’s hair and yanks, and though she instantly misses his tongue swirling against her, his surprised and guilty look as she draws him up toward them is satisfying too.

It doesn’t last long, though. “C’mere, Steve,” he says, words thick. He uncurls Steve’s hand from her elbow, guides it down between her legs. She can feel the shudder that goes through Steve when her breath hitches. For a moment Barnes is pressing Steve’s fingers against her, helping them trace lazy circles before sliding into her. His smile is wolfish as he leaves Steve to it and leans forward across their bodies to kiss her. His tongue skirts over the seam of her lips before pushing inside. She can taste herself in his mouth; his fingers are damp against her jaw. She bites him in retaliation and is pleased when he grunts before pulling back.

“Fine,” he scowls, then pitches past her. She hears Steve’s noise of surprise, and the movement of his fingers falter for a moment before becoming erratic. She tilts her head back; above her, Barnes’s throat is working as he sucks faint pink marks on Steve’s collarbone and shoulders. His chest and stomach are rubbing against her nipples as he shifts up to reach Steve, and with her body already primed, all it takes is Steve remembering to flick his thumb as he thrusts two fingers up into her to push her over the edge. She comes with a groan, pinned between them.

Steve dislodges Barnes so he can drop his head down on top of hers. “You okay?” he asks, and he sounds so sincere that she has to laugh, a quick barking thing that she muffles with the inside of one wrist. She can feel his arousal; his cock (and it _is_ a cock in a situation like this, she reminds herself, no matter what her mother or her nurse’s training have tried to tell her) is skimming against the small of her back with every little movement.

She pushes Barnes aside, ignoring his noise of protest, and untangles herself. “Condom?” she asks coolly, and Steve nearly falls over himself to get back out of the bed and over to his discarded uniform. She’s pleased; of course she procured a few, but she likes knowing these two came prepared to wear them.

She’s aware that both she and Barnes are looking at Steve as he sorts through their clothing. It’s hard not to admire him physically, but that’s all the serum’s doing, really. She likes best the hints of who he used to be that are hiding within that massive body--the slope of his nose, the curve of his brows, the scatterings of dark spots on his neck and back. She spares a glance over her shoulder and sees the lovesick expression on Barnes’s face before he manages to school it away.

“That’s how it is, is it?” she breathes against his cheek, and there’s something both angry and mortified in the way he pulls back from her.

Steve straightens back up, holding a few paper packets between his fingers. “Bucky?”

Barnes shakes his head, then leans back and stretches out full length. “Nah, pal, this is all you.”

Steve ducks his head and nods, then drops all but one of the packets. She is unaccountably charmed as he tears it open and rolls the condom on. She’s not sure if she expected him to be more experienced or less, but the quick practicality of the action suits him. 

She slides down so she’s on her back and pillows her head on an arm. “Come on, then,” she commands, and only barely keeps herself from smiling as he scrambles back over. He kneels above her for a moment before fitting his much larger body over hers.

Steve is susceptible to full-body blushes, as she thought he might be. He’s the most delightful shade of pink from stomach to ears at the moment. She traces the color down his sternum and he dips to kiss her gently. Unfortunately, that’s _all_ he does, leveraging his weight above her with an elbow, and soon she catches Barnes looking at her out of the corner of her eye; his brows are up and he gives a little shrug. It annoys her enough that she loops an arm around Steve’s neck and pulls him in.

“Let’s give your friend a show, shall we?” she murmurs against the shell of his ear, then tangles a leg around his as she flips them. Steve stares up at her from his new position back-down on the mattress. She has never seen a look like that in her life, wonder and gratitude and disbelief and desire all rolled into one, and for the first time she feels a pang of embarrassment. She doesn’t know what sort of woman Steve Rogers thinks she is, but it’s obviously better than the reality.

She kneels astride him and slides her hand up and down the length of his cock a few times experimentally. He keens in response, lifting up into her hand, and it makes her smile.

“Don’t tease him,” Barnes says, eyes dark.

She lifts one eyebrow in response, but shifts to position herself over Steve all the same. Slowly, with help from her guiding hand, she settles down onto him. It’s better this way anyhow; he’s thick, thicker than perhaps she’s used to, and it takes a little adjusting. He’s trembling beneath her with the effort of staying still, and him waiting for her is one of the most beautiful things she’s ever seen.

Finally she sinks fully down, bottoms out, skin-to-skin with him. She reaches down, takes him by the wrists, places his hands on her hips. “All right,” she tells him. “All right.” He helps lift her up, then cants his hips as she descends again, stroking something sweet inside of her. She nearly purrs. There’s some fumbling as they figure out a rhythm--Barnes has the audacity to offer a bit of commentary--but she’s known for a while what a fast learner he can be. Before long his thrusts are perfectly timed to her movements.

She has lovely breasts, if she says so herself--though her uniform does little to show that. They’re on display now, however, and Steve lets a hand drift up from her waist, knuckles grazing the soft underside of one before deft fingers roll her nipple. Beside him, Barnes utters something that sounds suspiciously like _mother of god_ as she throws her head back. She begins to toy with her other nipple, the one not receiving any of Steve’s attention, and it sends a line of heat straight through her body.

Barnes watcher her for a moment longer, then turns a little to mold his body against Steve’s. He drops a kiss on Steve’s temple, whispering something to him. The next moment, his fingers are flicking over her, rocking against her with perfect pressure, and she tilts forward instinctively. Her hands go out in front of her, and she finds balance by bracing herself on Steve’s broad chest. The angle shift means he’s thrusting in and out of her harder and faster than before, hips snapping without her weight pinning them down. At the same time, she’s grinding down on Barnes’s hand, all of her nerve endings alight. Still, coming again is almost a surprise, and it’s much harder this time. Her vision goes unfocused; for a moment she does not know where Steve ends and Barnes begins. Steve’s stifled noises bring her back, though, let her know that he can absolutely feel the way she’s contracting around him. Barnes is muttering into his ear, too quiet for Peggy to hear, and the hand that was teasing her is now tracing little circles low on Steve’s hip, urging him on.

Steve comes with a quiet inhale, knees drawing up behind her. She catches a glimpse of the muscles of his stomach fluttering between her hands and Barnes’s, then Steve is pulling her down flush with him, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Peggy runs her fingers through the damp hair at the back of his neck and lets him hold her; she has never been one for this sort of sentimentality, but she’s a fool for this man, has been for ages now. So she settles for just breathing with him until he sees fit to let her go, and that’s when she remembers Barnes.

He’s still lying against Steve, and though she can see him in the corner of her eye, she doesn’t think he can tell she’s looking at him. He wouldn’t be wearing that face if he could--it’s his whole heart right there, written out in his expression as he watches Steve hold her. He closes his eyes for a moment, then sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

It makes Steve shift, glance over. Then his brows draw together and he props himself up on an elbow, dislodging her a little as he does so. “Bucky?”

“I’m fine,” Barnes says dismissively, even though he’s obviously not--even if his voice didn’t sound tight like that, he’s so hard that he’s nearly brushing against his own stomach. Peggy realizes in this moment that he is admitting defeat; she wonders why she doesn’t feel like she’s won anything. She’s strung out now, tired and sore, and the thought of taking care of him too is exhausting, but pity moves her a little all the same. She is still debating what exactly it is she may owe him as he makes to get up.

Steve doesn’t seem to have the same internal debate. He says “hey, no,” as he slides out from under her, catching Barnes by the arm as he tries to slip out of the bed. In one smooth movement, Steve rolls him down next to her, pins him with one big hand. She can see Steve’s muscles flex as he does it, knows he’s utilizing that extra strength the serum gave him, and from Barnes’s wide-eyed expression, it’s clear that he’s not used to Steve being able to push him around. His eyes go wider still when Steve shucks the condom from earlier, gives him a here-goes-nothing shrug, and slides down his body.

Peggy barely remembers to breathe as Steve lightly kisses Barnes’s chest, his navel, his hip. It seems odd to her that she should find this arousing, watching the man she is half in love with lavish his affections on another. But when Barnes arches up with a hiss as Steve’s mouth closes over his cock, the column of his throat exposed next to her, she finds she doesn’t actually mind so much after all. Barnes lets out a choked noise that might be Steve’s name, and she glances down to see Steve running his tongue up the length of him, lashes dark against his cheeks. She feels that familiar warmth curling in her belly unexpectedly, stirred by the little noises each of them are making, pleading and pleased in turn. She slips a hand down between her thighs, watching Steve hollow out his cheeks. It’s not enough, she discovers, not with both of them right there.

Steve is occupied, so she seals her lips over Barnes’s and he surges up against her gratefully. She licks into his mouth as he moans; he fists one hand into her already-mussed hair like a drowning man might clutch at straws. There’s a light brush against her leg, then the gentle grazing of fingers on the inside of her knee, just Steve’s reassurance that he hasn’t forgotten about her. With both of those brilliant, mad boys holding onto her, she brings herself off again, shuddering through her orgasm and turning the press of her lips against Barnes’s bruising. He half-sobs in return, and she hears Steve’s muffled exclamation.

She pulls away in time to see Steve release the head of Barnes’s cock with a pop and wipe at his mouth with the back of a hand. “Come on, Buck. Little warning.”

“Fuck off, Rogers,” Barnes replies without heat, voice shaking a little as he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Couldn’t help it.”

Steve rests his chin on Barnes’s stomach and smiles absently up at both of them. Peggy is sweaty and sore and probably far from attractive, but she is so pleased with the the way this has ended after all that she finds she does not care. She pulls Steve up and kisses him, though his lips are red and wet; the taste in his mouth is bitter but not, she finds, as unpleasant as she once might’ve thought.

\--

Steve sleeps between them afterward, curled around neither one, just stretched out so that the planes of his back are smooth and endless in the dim light filtering through the curtains.

For a while she thinks Barnes must be asleep too, but he surprises her some time later by fumbling over the side of the bed. He produces a cigarette which he promptly lights, face glowing orange for a moment before he shakes out the match. The acrid, lovely smell of it fills the room and she inhales deeply. He has just taken a draw when she reaches over and plucks it from him, and she smirks at his startled expression.

“I’ve never liked being told _can’t_ ,” she informs him.

His surprised huff of laughter comes out as smoke, and as she closes her lips around the cigarette, she tastes the ghosts of all three of them on her tongue.


End file.
